


The Shooter

by BadassBurgess



Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Action/Adventure, Crimes & Criminals, Drama, F/F, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-31
Updated: 2020-01-31
Packaged: 2021-02-25 07:33:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22492363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BadassBurgess/pseuds/BadassBurgess
Summary: Police officer Bayley Martinez is assigned to the investigation after a fellow officer is shot and killed. Will the perpetrator be caught before they have the chance to strike again?
Relationships: Sasha Banks/Bayley | Davina Rose
Comments: 1
Kudos: 11





	1. Chapter 1

The culmination of Bayley Martinez's first undercover operation as a police officer was at hand. Her services had been leant to Stamford City Police Department's Intelligence Division. The division was made up of some of the city's best detectives, making working with them quite an honour for a regular police officer like Bayley.

Her role in the operation had been to play the part of prostitute and a drug addict in order to get into a house where a significant pimping and cocaine running operation was suspected to be based. Having spent a few minutes inside, Bayley had confirmed that both of those suspicions were accurate. Armed with that knowledge, she had excused herself to go to the downstairs bathroom.

Bolting the bathroom door shut behind her, Bayley took her phone out of her purse and called the number she had been given for the head of Intelligence Division, who was parked out in the street with a van load of armed detectives and police officers.

"Yes?" the commander said, answering the call.

"Three men and four prostitutes, all in the living room in the back," Bayley said quietly. "Lines of cocaine on the table and a package on the floor. I'm sure there will be more."

"Understood," the commander said. Just before the call ended, Bayley heard an order issued. "Let's move,"

Knowing that the front and back doors would be smashed in momentarily, and that bullets might start flying if things went south, Bayley got ready to take cover between the bath and the toilet if necessary.

About thirty seconds later, there was a huge crash from the direction of the front door. She heard people rushing into the house, yelling that they were SCPD, and wanted to see hands in the air.

Things started to go wrong when Bayley heard someone kick the bathroom door. Someone was breaking in, and she didn't have a weapon with her to defend herself. The second kick sent the door flying open, and one of the men walked in brandishing a pistol. "This was you, bitch!" he accused, pointing the gun at her.

Bayley raised her hands, but didn't get a chance to try and plead her case. One of the Intelligence Division detectives appeared behind the suspect, jamming the end of a rifle into the back of his neck.

"Drop the gun!" the detective yelled.

Thank god, Bayley thought as the suspect complied immediately, letting the gun fall out of his hands to the floor. Bayley picked it up and disarmed it, while the detective cuffed the suspect's hands behind his back. Judging by the shouting throughout the rest of the house, she could tell that the other men were under arrest. Rooms upstairs were being cleared.

Happy with her part in the operation, Bayley followed the detective and his prisoner out of the bathroom. They found the commander of Intelligence Division coming the other way. She was in her mid thirties, Bayley estimated, with long dark hair that was currently up in a bun, and a very attractive face. It wasn't the appearance people might expect of a division commander, but maybe that was an asset in and of itself.

"Hello, Mickey. You've been a naughty boy," the commander said in a well-spoken English accent, obviously recognising the man who had just been placed under arrest.

"Fuck you, Thorne," the suspect said, spitting in the woman's face. She responded by smashing the butt of her rifle into the middle of his face, breaking his nose with a loud crack, and damn near knocking him out. He was stopped from collapsing by the detective behind him.

Jesus, Bayley thought, telling herself never to fuck with Lucy Thorne. Apparently being in charge of Intelligence Division put her in a position to be able to do something like that to a prisoner. If Bayley had done that as a regular police officer, it would likely have resulted in a suspension from duty at best.

"Get him out of here," Thorne instructed, wiping the spit from her cheek. "Bloody animal," she snapped at the barely conscious man who was apparently called Mickey.

The detective escorted the prisoner towards the front door, leaving Bayley standing with Commander Thorne.

"Martinez, yes?" Thorne said, trying to recall the name she had only heard once, when sergeant Reigns had introduced them that morning.

"Yes, ma'am," Bayley said respectfully.

"Good work, Martinez. There's a squad car outside, ready to take you back to the station. You'll write up a full report of everything you saw and heard here today."

"Including...?" Bayley looked in the direction of the suspect who'd had his face smashed with the gun.

"No, not including that," Thorne said pointedly.

"Yes, ma'am." With that, the two women parted ways. Thorne continued down the hallway and up the stairs to supervise the operation, while Bayley left via the front door for her ride back to the station.

* * *

The locker room was Bayley's first stop when she got back to the police station. Spending the rest of the day dressed like a cheap hooker was not high on the list of things she wanted to do.

By chance, only moments after Bayley entered the locker room, Ronda Rousey, her former training officer, walked in. Her eyes widened when she saw Bayley and took in the revealing top, booty shorts and long boots that went almost up to the knee. "Martinez? Christ, what did you come as? I thought your new hair cut was drastic enough."

A few weeks earlier, Bayley had changed her hairstyle to a bob cut, and had been teased mercilessly for it by her colleagues for it ever since. It was lucky that she could take banter when it came her way.

"Very funny, Ronda," Bayley said with an eye roll. "I was on my first undercover assignment, for Intelligence Division."

"Thorne's unit? Nice," Rousey said, sounding genuinely impressed. "How did that go?"

"Yeah, it went well. Three arrests made. I had a gun in my face for a moment, but the situation was quickly dealt with. What do you know about Thorne? It seems weird that an English woman is the commander of SCPD's Intelligence Division, although she does seem pretty badass."

"That's an understatement," Rousey said. "She was MI6. That's British secret intelligence. I heard there was some kind of exchange that saw her come over here and an American detective make the move to London. All I know is, she's not to be fucked with."

"I was thinking the same thing earlier," Bayley said. It struck her that if Ronda Rousey said someone was not to be fucked with, they really were not to be fucked with.

"Is your shift over? Mine is," Rousey said.

"No chance," Bayley groaned. "I've got to write my report about today before I think about going anywhere."

They made idle conversation while Bayley got changed into her uniform, and Rousey got changed out of hers. When she was done, Bayley said goodnight to the woman she still thought of as her training officer and walked out of the locker room.

On her way past the roll call room, she saw a group of officers congregated in there, which was unusual for that time of the evening. They looked rather distressed. Bayley decided to go in and find out what was going on.

"How can no one have seen anything?" a male officer cried as she walked into the room.

"What's going on?" Bayley asked the first officer she approached.

"We got an officer down call a few minutes ago," he said. "Ramirez was shot in the head at a gas station. He's dead. Anderson was his partner today, but he was in the gas station when the shooting happened, and he didn't see it. Witnesses say they didn't see anything either."

"Jesus Christ," Bayley said quietly. She didn't know Ramirez or Anderson well, but she knew who they were. Any fellow officer being killed on the job was heart-breaking. After all, they were brothers and sisters in arms.

Feeling somewhat empty inside, Bayley set off to find an office where she could sit and write her report in peace. Concentrating on it had just been made harder by the sad news.

* * *

A couple of hours later, Bayley finally arrived home at the apartment she shared with her girlfriend Sasha Banks. Arriving home late was not all that uncommon for her, thanks to the irregular hours required by police work. Bayley always made sure to call Sasha to let her know if she wasn't going to be home on time, so that Sasha didn't worry about her.

"Bay, have you seen the news?" Sasha said, hurrying from the living room to greet her.

"You mean about the officer being shot?" Bayley said as they embraced. "Yes, I heard about it at the station. It's awful."

"They're saying on the news it might have been a sniper," Sasha said, looking deeply concerned.

Bayley's eyes widened in surprise, and she walked quickly through to the living area to take a look at the news coverage. "A sniper? That's extremely unusual. Someone taking a pot shot with a pistol, or even an execution style murder as payback for someone Ramirez arrested I could maybe understand. But I guess this explains why witnesses didn't see anything."

On the TV screen Bayley could see a shot of a gas station taken from a fair distance away. The film crew were behind an established police cordon. There were squad cars with flashing lights parked everywhere. The only one that didn't have its lights on was the one on the gas station forecourt. It stood with the passenger's door open, likely as a result of the deceased officer being removed from the vehicle.

"I'm scared, Bay. Why would someone shoot a cop like that? What if they keep doing it?"

Bayley turned to Sasha and took her hand, wanting to reassure her. "I'm almost certain that won't happen, honey. Ramirez, god bless him, was likely a specific target. The gas station will have CCTV, as will other stores around there. Whoever did this will be caught soon enough."

"You think so?" Sasha asked hopefully.

"I know so. We're very good at what we do," Bayley said with a smile.

"And you're the best of all," Sasha said proudly.

"I don't know about that, babe, but I do what I can."


	2. Chapter 2

Roll call the next morning had told Bayley more of what wasn't known about the shooting of officer Ramirez than what was known. The poor man had been hit in the head with a bullet from a rifle, which had killed him instantly. The bullet had entered the squad car through the windshield, giving an indication of the direction it had come from.

And that was about it as far as information went. No one had seen a shooter. No one had heard anything. So far, reviewing CCTV cameras had yielded nothing. Forensics would be working on trying to identify the kind of rifle used based on the remains of the bullet that had been found. The facts pointed to a sniper, but there was little to no information to work with in terms of catching the person responsible.

"I'll keep you all informed with regard to funeral arrangements as and when they're made," Reigns said. And then it was time to proceed with the rest of the roll call. Life went on for the population of Stamford City, and that meant police work went on too.

"Martinez, Rousey, you're together today on patrol duty. You're on the east side," Reigns said as part of his list of assignments for that day's shifts.

Patrol duty was better than foot patrol duty, Bayley thought. And although Ronda Rousey wasn't someone she would call a friend, they got on okay. More importantly, there was respect and a good working relationship between them, which was why sergeant Reigns often chose to put them together quite often.

As a kind of hangover from the training officer – rookie relationship, it always fell to Bayley to go and get their load out for the day. It was also her job to do all of the driving, saving Ronda having to bother with it.

Working the east side of Stamford City was always something of an adventure. The city's most impoverished, crime ridden neighbourhoods were on that side.

It didn't take long for the day's first offense to present itself as they arrived on station and started cruising the streets. Approaching an intersection, Bayley pulled up behind a beaten up old Ford. The driver had their foot on the brakes, with only one of the lights showing.

"Tail light," Rousey said.

"Yep," Bayley acknowledged. "I'll light them up once we get through the intersection."

The light went green, and the driver of the Ford pulled off, heading straight across the intersection. Bayley turned on the squad car's lights and gave a short blast of the siren.

The offending vehicle signalled that they were pulling over, doing so in the first available spot where there was room for their vehicle and the squad car.

"Be on your guard. There's no telling who might be in that car, or if they might be armed," Rousey said as Bayley parked up behind the offending vehicle. It was good advice for any traffic stop, but was especially relevant on this side of town. It also made Bayley think of poor officer Ramirez. One cop being shot was more than enough. She didn't want Ronda's name or her own added to the list.

Both officers got out of the car. Bayley approached the driver's door, while Ronda walked up the sidewalk to stand by the passenger's door.

Nearing the car, Bayley was able to see that there was only a driver inside. From behind, it looked like a woman in her twenties or thirties. The driver lowered her window as Bayley stepped up to it.

Looking into the car, Bayley saw that her estimate of the woman's age had been accurate. She was wearing the uniform of a well known supermarket chain. Her expression was nervous, as with most people who were pulled over. Bayley saw nothing to give her a sense of danger.

"Hello, officer. Something wrong?" the woman asked.

"Morning. Can I see your license and registration, please?" Bayley asked politely. She liked to remain courteous when it was appropriate to do so. "Do you know why I pulled you over?"

"Uh, no, ma'am," the woman said. She had looked anywhere but at Bayley while speaking, a clear sign of lying. She retrieved her documentation from the glove compartment and handed it over.

"You have a tail light out," Bayley as she took the documents.

"Oh, uh, I didn't know. I'll get it fixed as soon as I can, I promise. Is there any chance you can let me off with a warning?"

"You know, if you want a police officer to do you a favour, it's best not to lie to them," Bayley said pointedly, looking the driver in the eye.

The voice of a female dispatcher came through Rousey's radio, drawing Bayley's attention. "Shots fired at a gas station, corner of 32nd and Walnut. Officers on the scene, requesting backup."

"That's only a few blocks from here," Rousey said to Bayley. "We'll respond. Give her a warning. Let's go."

Bayley handed the lucky driver her documents. "Get that tail light fixed. If you get stopped with it again, it will be a ticket."

"Yes, ma'am," the driver said, speaking humbly and gratefully.

"Car fourteen bravo responding," Rousey said into her radio as both officers rushed back to the squad car. Bayley jumped behind the wheel and within seconds had the car roaring up the street, siren wailing.

"Gas station, same as yesterday! Why am I thinking this might be the same guy?" Rousey yelled over the noise of the engine and the siren.

"It could be, but we don't know that!" Bayley yelled back. "If it is, hopefully we're about to catch the guy!"

"If it is a guy!" Rousey shouted.

Bayley looked at her, surprised.

"You don't know it was a guy who shot Ramirez! Don't make assumptions!"

It was a good point, Bayley had to admit. It was overwhelmingly likely that the shooter was a man, but it wasn't factually established as of yet.

Reaching the gas station they had been called to, Bayley turned the patrol car onto the forecourt and brought it to a stop, tyres squealing. There was no gun battle going on, she saw. In fact there wasn't much going on at all. There were two male officers on the scene, both with a middle aged blonde woman in a grey business suit, who was lying on the ground in a pool of her own blood. One of the officers was doing CPR on her. The look on the other one's face as Bayley got out of the car said that there was no point in the efforts to save her. The woman was dead. There were some horrified onlookers on the sidewalk, obviously having been ordered to get back.

"What happened here?" Rousey asked, hurrying over to the two other officers. Bayley recognised the one who wasn't doing the CPR. He was a young African American guy with the surname Dillon. He was maybe a year or two more experienced than Bayley, which meant he wasn't particularly experienced in the grand scheme of things.

"Richards and I had been into the store to get coffee. We were near our car, talking, then all of a sudden this woman dropped. I didn't hear a shot or anything."

Bayley looked at the wound in the poor woman's chest. It was extensive, likely an exit wound by the look of it. Only a high powered rifle could have caused it. There was no doubt in her mind that she was looking at a fatal injury. The amount of blood on the ground provided further evidence of that.

Apparently Dillon agreed. "Richards, she's gone, man. Come on," he said, putting a hand on his partner's shoulder.

"Keep going, Richards," Rousey countermanded, taking charge of the situation. "She's not dead until she gets to a hospital. You hear those sirens? That's an ambulance. You keep going until those paramedics take over from you. Martinez, go and find out if any of those witnesses saw anything. Dillon, you and I are going to start setting up a cordon. And be on your guard in case the shooter is still here."

"Yes, ma'am," Bayley said, automatically slipping back into the deference that she had been used to showing her training officer during her rookie year.

It was no surprise to Bayley that she had been given the job that required people skills. Rousey knew what her strengths were.

"Okay, I need anyone who was here when the incident happened to step forward, please!" Bayley called out authoritatively to the group of civilians as she walked over to them. "Everyone else, I need to move on, or if you insist on hanging around, I need you to back off to the other side of the street! Let's go!"

"Is that woman dead?" a teenage boy asked her, shielding his eyes against the April sunlight.

Bayley turned around and shielded her own eyes for a second. Her brain started processing as she turned back to the face the teenager. "Were you here when the incident happened?"

"No."

"Across the street, please," Bayley said firmly, pointing.

The civilians were starting to sort themselves out into the two groups that she had requested. While Bayley waited, the ambulance arrived. She didn't turn around to watch the paramedics get to work. There was no point.

Five people had stepped forward, indicating that they had been at or near the gas station when the woman had been shot. The first person Bayley spoke to was a young woman, who said she had been in the gas station's store and hadn't seen anything apart from the woman on the ground and the cops trying to help her. Having already taken her details, Bayley dismissed her to the other side of the street.

Next was an elderly man with thinning grey hair and glasses. He was holding a rolled up newspaper in his hand.

"You were here at the time of the incident, sir?" Bayley asked, notepad in hand.

"Yes, officer, I was," the man replied. He looked quite frail, but his voice was strong and confident.

Bayley took his name, address and contact number, writing them all down. "Tell me what you saw, please, Peter," she encouraged him.

"I was just walking across the forecourt when that poor woman took the bullet. I come here every morning to buy my paper," he explained. "I saw the woman walking towards the store. I had looked away when the shot was fired. I didn't hear it, but I heard the impact, and I saw her go down. She's dead, right?"

Ignoring the question, Bayley motioned for Peter to walk with her. "Come with me. I want you to show me exactly where the woman was when she was hit. I need you to be very accurate. Can you do that for me?"

"I think I can be pretty accurate," Peter said. "She must have crawled or been moved by those officers. My, that's a lot of blood," he said as the got nearer the scene, stopping and looking queasy at the sight of it.

The paramedics had the victim on a stretcher by now, and were moving her to the ambulance. The officer named Richards stood nearby, covered in blood and looking shocked. For now, Bayley wanted to concentrate on Peter, and get him to focus on what she needed to know.

"Try not to look at the blood, Peter. Show me where she was when she was hit."

"Martinez, what are you doing?" Rousey demanded, not pleased at all that she could see a member of the public standing in the middle of the crime scene.

"She was here," Peter said, choosing his spot to stand.

"Richards, where were you when the victim was shot?" Bayley asked. "Show me exactly where you were."

"What?" Richards asked, narrowing his eyes at her.

Rousey was marching over, her regular angry-looking face on. "Martinez! I said..."

Bayley raised a hand to silence her, looking at Richards. "Show me where you were," she insisted.

Deciding to humour her, Richards walked over to where he had been standing, near to his squad car. It was about twenty feet from where the woman who had been shot had been standing. "I was here," he said. "Dillon was by the driver's door. We were about to get in the car."

Bayley nodded. She shielded her eyes again to look in the direction of the sun, then started pacing around, eyeing up various angles. Rousey watched her as if she was encountering an escaped mental patient.

"What are you doing, Martinez?" Richards asked, not impressed.

Bayley looked him in the eye. "That woman wasn't the target. You were."


	3. Chapter 3

"Sir, Martinez has something to discuss with you about today's shooting," officer Rousey said. She and Bayley had gone back to the station when they had been relieved by other officers at the gas station, and had gone straight to sergeant Reigns' office so that she could present her theory.

"Then I'm sure Martinez can tell me herself. She's not a rookie anymore," Reigns said calmly, look up at them from behind his desk.

"Yes, of course," Rousey said, standing aside to give Bayley centre stage.

Bayley pushed the office door closed, then stepped up to her superior's desk. "Sir, I don't believe that the woman who was shot at the gas station today was the target. I think officer Richards was the intended target."

Reigns looked a little surprised. "I assume you have some evidence to support what you're saying?"

Taking a deep breath, Bayley had reached the tricky moment that she had known was coming. "I don't have evidence, sir. I have a theory I would like to present," she said, trying to sound confident and not making the best job of it.

"A theory?" Reigns said, raising an unimpressed eyebrow.

"Yes, sir," Bayley said. "Can I come around your desk and use your computer, please? It will help me to explain."

Reigns pushed his chair back from the desk and motioned to the screen to indicate that she could have at it.

At least he was willing to hear her out, Bayley thought. She walked around the desk and leant over it to move the computer's mouse and operate the keyboard. Calling up Google Maps, she quickly located the gas station where the shooting had happened, and zoomed in on it in the satellite view.

"This is the gas station at the corner of 32nd and Walnut," she began. Picking up a pen from Reigns' desk, she used it to point to locations on the screen as she moved the map around. "Richards and Dillon had parked their squad car here. They were about to get back into the car when the victim was shot. That puts Richards here. The victim was approximately here."

"Don't forget to show him the photos you took," Rousey said.

"I will," Bayley said. "I need to finish this first." She moved the satellite view over slightly. "On this corner, opposite the gas station, there's a parking lot. It was largely empty this morning. Beyond that, there's this waste ground. It looks like buildings were demolished there some time ago. I believe our sniper fired from somewhere there, and was trying to shoot Richards. Somehow, he hit the victim instead. A small misjudgement, but..."

"So you're saying we're looking for a sniper who can't shoot straight?" Reigns asked, looking from Bayley to Rousey and back again.

"Show him the photos," Rousey said.

"I took some pictures with my phone to show the sight line to where I think the shot was fired from, roughly." Bayley took out her phone and showed a couple of pictures to Reigns. "Sir, I think the sniper fired from over there with a silenced weapon, possibly from inside a vehicle of some kind. I also checked the position of the sun, and it wouldn't have been a problem to them from that angle."

Reigns leaned back in his chair and studied her for a moment. "And you came up with all of this by yourself?"

"Sir, if you take another look at it..." Bayley began defensively, before Reigns cut her off.

"Relax, Martinez, I think you might be on to something. I'm going to have a forensics team check out that waste ground for footprints, tyre tracks and any other evidence they might find. I'll also have all of the CCTV in the area collected. I'll need officers to comb through it all to see if there's anything of interest."

"I'll do it," Bayley said, picking up on the not very subtle hint.

"I'll join her," Rousey said, mainly because she didn't want to be upstaged.

"Okay," Reigns nodded. "If you're right, Martinez, this piece of crap is targeting cops at gas stations. I'm going to put the word out right now. Watch your asses out there."

"Yes, sir," Bayley said. With that, she followed Rousey out of the office.

* * *

The rest of Bayley's shift had been spent back on patrol, since the shooting was now in the hands of detectives to investigate, and they had already had all the uniformed officers they needed on site at the gas station. Thankfully, there had been no other shootings. Two in two days was still way too many.

Arriving home felt good, even more so because she had been able to finish her shift on time. Sasha would be home first, as usual, and would be cooking something nice for dinner, as always. Sasha loved to cook, and Bayley, who had no talent for it at all, loved everything she made. Tonight, she couldn't wait, as she felt particularly hungry.

"I'm home!" Bayley called out as she walked through the front door. She was greeted by the smell of something vaguely fishy wafting through from the kitchen. It started her stomach rumbling.

"There's the sexiest cop in the city," Sasha said, smiling as she walked out of the kitchen. She was wearing a sleeveless t-shirt and a pair of shorts that showed off legs that were to die for. Bayley suddenly fancied a very different meal.

"Only in the city?" she asked, walking into her girl's arms.

"In the world," Sasha corrected.

"In the world? I'll take that," Bayley said, smiling. "You know what else I'll take? The sexiest accountant in the world."

"I'm only a trainee accountant," Sasha pointed out.

Bayley gave her a peck on the lips. "Not for much longer."

They stood and held each other for a moment before Sasha needed to get back into the kitchen to tend to the cooking. Bayley went with her. "What are we having? It smells nice."

"Seared tuna steaks," Sasha said. "I was on the way home and the idea suddenly came to me, so I swung by and picked some up. So, uh, Bay?"

"What's up?" Bayley asked, hopping up to sit on one of the work surfaces.

Sasha cringed. "Can you please not sit on there?"

"Sorry," Bayley giggled, getting back down. "What were you going to ask me?"

"I had the news on in the car on the way home. There was another shooting today."

"Yes there was," Bayley said sombrely, already reaching the decision not to mention the fact that a cop had been the intended target. It would only start Sasha worrying about her. "Ronda and I responded to it, actually. We were among the first on the scene."

"Oh, Bay, that must have been awful," Sasha said, looking at her. "I don't know how you do it."

"It wasn't good. The poor woman never had a chance. If there's one positive that came from today, I came up with a theory that might help us catch the son of a bitch."

"You did?"

"Yes. I think I figured out where he fired from, and I think he fired out of a vehicle, likely a van or a truck. It's being investigated as we speak."

Sasha shook her head in wonder. "You're so clever, Bay. I don't know how you do it. You're wasted on regular police work. You should be a detective."

"I have less than two years of service, babe. I'm going to need at least four before I can try for detective. Even then, there's no guarantee I would get it."

"Well, I'm sure you will," Sasha said confidently.

* * *

The next morning, Bayley and officer Rousey found themselves assigned to a small office with two desks and computers in it. Both computers had been loaded up with all of the CCTV footage that had been collected from the gas station at the corner of 32nd and Walnut, and the surrounding area.

"Not one camera. Not one goddamn camera shows any of that waste ground," Rousey said heatedly. Her patience was starting to wear thin.

Bayley didn't pay much attention to her ranting. She was focused on her own computer. For the past couple of minutes, she had been rewinding and watching the same thirty seconds of footage over and over. "Ronda, come look at this," she said eventually.

Rousey got up and moved behind Bayley to look at her screen.

"Watch this," Bayley said. Playing the footage, she waited for her former training officer's reaction.

"You're looking at that van?" Rousey asked.

"Yes." Bayley rewound thirty seconds and played it again. A maroon coloured van drove past the gas station, through the intersection. What had caught her eye was the way it moved slower than the other traffic, slowing down as it passed the gas station. It was unusual behaviour. Unusual made it noteworthy, given the circumstances, especially considering that forensics had found tyre tracks from a van on the waste ground.

"That's very likely to be nothing," Rousey said, watching the video loop again.

"You're right. But it just might be our shooter scouting out the gas station," Bayley said.

"It might," Rousey admitted. "We'll kick it up to Reigns, see what he makes of it."

The door opening interrupted the conversation. Captain Ambrose stood in the doorway. "Ramirez's wife and their two sons are here collecting his possessions." He didn't need to say anything more. Both women knew why they were being told.

A few minutes later, Bayley was standing beside Rousey outside the police station. They were ready, with every other cop who had been in the building, to give Mrs Ramirez and the kids a guard of honour from the station's door all the way to their car, which was parked nearby in the lot. It was only the second time that Bayley had taken part in this respectful ritual. The first time, she had almost been moved to tears. This time wasn't fixing to be any different.

Shortly, the station's front door slid open. Mrs Ramirez, two young teenage boys, and officer Anderson, Ramirez's partner on the day he had been killed, walked out. Mrs Ramirez burst into tears immediately when she saw the showing of respect from her late husband's colleagues. It was her sons who showed the bravery and composure to keep her walking.

As the family walked down the line, the officers they passed saluted them. When her turn came to salute, Bayley wished she could say something to the poor heart-broken widow. She wanted to promise to get the evil bastard who was responsible for her husband's death. Ultimately, words were not what Mrs Ramirez and her sons needed. What they needed was justice. Bayley was determined to do everything she could to help in getting it for them.


	4. Chapter 4

There had been no shooting on day three of the sniper investigation. Obviously that was good news for everyone at Stamford City PD. It had given them a full day to start trying to track down the maroon van that Bayley had picked out of the gas station's CCTV footage.

The van was a thin lead to go on, but so far it was all they had. The theory of the van's involvement did have some things in its favour. A vehicle identification expert had been brought in to review the footage. He had been able to provide a make and model. Tyre tracks had been found on the waste ground with line of sight to the gas station. An expert had identified the tyre based on the tracks, and it had been confirmed that the maroon van could take those tyres.

None of those things meant that the van definitely had anything to do with the shootings, Bayley knew, and the tyre tracks on the waste ground didn't mean that the shot had been fired from there, either. Even so, Bayley felt deep down that her suspicions were accurate.

Her day three had been spent tracking down owners of maroon vans, in order to search their vehicles for anything suspicious. So far, around half of the matching vans in Stamford had been located and searched, without yielding any evidence.

Waking up on day four, Bayley's very first thought went to the ongoing search, hoping that today was the day a van would be found that did contain evidence that it had been used by a sniper.

"Ugh, morning already," Sasha groaned, looking at the digital clock on her nightstand. The alarm was set to go off in three minutes. "How do we always wake up just before the alarm?"

"I don't know, babe," Bayley grumbled, rolling over onto her back.

Sasha took her phone off the nightstand. As soon as she unlocked it, she gasped. "Oh god."

"What?" Bayley asked, quickly sitting up and looking at her.

"Another cop was shot and killed during the night. I have a breaking news notification about it from two hours ago."

"Oh god, no!" Bayley cried. "I can't believe the bastard killed again. I've got to get to the station as quick as I can."

* * *

Arriving at the station half an hour later, Bayley's blood was boiling. She was taking the sniper case personally, and the fact that she hadn't been called in when the shooting had happened had really pissed her off. For that reason, she marched straight to sergeant Reigns' office. She found him only having just arrived himself, hanging a coat on a stand just inside his door.

"Martinez, you're in early," Reigns said.

"I came in as soon as I saw the news," Bayley said. As she went on, she couldn't keep the anger out of her voice. "I don't know why I had to see it on the news."

Reigns raised his eyebrows at the way she had spoken out of turn. "Come in. Shut the door."

Bayley did as she was told, already chastising herself for her loss on control. She had never had an attitude problem with a superior before. Taking a breath, she tried to get herself in check.

"These shootings are hitting all of us hard, Martinez, so I'm going to let that slide. You speak to me like that again, we're going to have a very different conversation. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir. Sorry, sir. This case... it's just... getting to me," Bayley said, shaking her head.

"I understand that," Reigns said. He let the subject drop, and moved on. "You weren't called in because you weren't needed. Night shift were able to deal with the situation. It was officer King who was killed, shot in the head by a sniper at a gas station, same MO as before."

"I'm sorry to hear that, sir," Bayley said. She didn't know an officer King, not that that mattered. He apparently hadn't heeded the warning about cops being targeted at gas stations, likely figured that the sniper would only be active during the day.

"Thanks to you, detectives asked the staff at the gas station about maroon vans. One of them said there had been one parked a few hundred yards down the street for most of the day. He remembered walking past it on his way to work, and again on his break when he went to get a McDonald's.

"So we're still looking for a maroon van and a murderer," Bayley said.

"Yes, but before that, you've got something else to do," Reigns said.

"I have? Please tell me you're not taking me off this case, sir?"

"No, I'm not. But what I am doing is taking you to see commander Thorne in Intelligence."

"Commander Thorne? Does she need me on another assignment?"

"Let's go see her, and you might find out," Reigns said.

Bayley had to consciously keep her emotions in check as she walked with Reigns out of his office, heading for the part of the station that belonged to Intelligence Division. She was angry, frustrated, sad, and now confused as well. Getting recruited for one assignment by commander Thorne had been a big surprise. Getting another one this quickly would be beyond anything she could have imagined. Thorne had enough clout to have her pick of any cop in Stamford City. Being chosen by her was an honour. Under any other circumstances, Bayley would have been delighted by the prospect. With two cops murdered, delight was a hard thing to feel.

Intelligence Division's part of the station was separated from the rest of the building by a thick steel door that could only be opened by a fingerprint scanner. Only the chosen few were able to go inside.

Reigns placed the fingers of his right hand on the scanner. After a moment, there was a loud click as the door unlocked. He pushed the door open slightly and kept it that way with his foot. "When you're done here, you're with Blanchard today. You're going to help with the search for that van. The advantage we have is that the suspect doesn't know we're onto the van, or that we're looking for it. I want the bastard found and arrested today."

"Yes, sir," Bayley said with determination. With that, she opened the door and stepped through into the hallway that continued into Intelligence. The door swung closed behind her, automatically locking itself.

After a few feet, the hallway widened into an open plan office space. It was furnished and equipped much more expensively than the other parts of the station. Wherever the budget came from for Thorne's unit, it was clearly a sizeable one. There were five desks in the office, all with computer workstations, along with stationary and a few personal effects. Currently, there was no one sitting at any of the desks. Familiar with the layout from her previous assignment, Bayley knew that commander Thorne's office was the one directly at the far end of the room. To the right of that was an office for the division's computer and technology expert. There was another door off to the left, but Bayley didn't know what lay behind it.

Walking through the office, Bayley approached Thorne's door, which was standing open. Having heard footsteps, Thorne was looking at the doorway when Bayley got there. Formidable was the word that came to mind. There was no doubt that the English woman was very attractive. She had had her long dark hair down today, and, as Intelligence didn't have any kind of uniform policy, was wearing a black top that showed a tasteful amount of cleavage. But it was the steel in her eyes that was most notable to a trained police officer. Bayley reminded herself that this was someone who even Ronda Rousey had described as not to be fucked with.

"Ah, Martinez, good. Have a seat," Thorne said in a fairly pleasant tone. "I understand we have you to thank for the lead on the maroon van? My team are out there now taking part in the search," she said as Bayley sat down in front of the desk.

"I picked it out of the CCTV footage, ma'am," Bayley said respectfully. "I hope it leads to something."

"Me too, Martinez. Me too. Now, I'm sure you're wondering you've been called in to sit down with me instead of getting out there on the hunt yourself."

Bayley nodded.

Thorne picked up a brown folder that was quite with paperwork and dropped it back down on the desk again. "I've been reading a lot about you."

All of that paperwork relating to her short career was a surprise to Bayley. The reaction must have shown on her face, for Thorne picked up on it.

"I pulled records of every significant case you've worked on. You're an outstanding officer, Martinez. I mean that in the literal sense. Your ability stands out from that of your peers."

"Thank you, ma'am," Bayley said humbly. It was the biggest compliment she had received in her professional life.

"You know the interesting thing about Intelligence Division, Martinez? The thing that makes it unlike any other division in this city?"

"What's that, ma'am?"

"It's mine," Thorne said, speaking with pride and stridency. "I have the stroke to run this unit however I want. I take the cases I want. I investigate them however I want. Most importantly for this conversation, I recruit whoever I want."

Holy shit, she's talking about hiring me, Bayley realised. It made no sense to her, but that was definitely what was happening. "Ma'am, I'm not even a detective," she blurted out, feeling like a moron as soon as she said.

"I'm aware of that. If I hadn't read your file, the uniform kind of gives it away," Thorne said dryly. "Like I just said, this is my division. There is no requirement to work for me other than the fact that I want you. It just so happens that one of my team recently moved on, going to work for the FBI. In some ways, your lack of experience can be an asset, allowing me to more easily mould you into the kind of operative you need to be to work on my team. That's one of several reasons I'm interested in you."

"So, this is a job offer?" Bayley asked in an excited state of disbelief.

"It may be a job offer. First, I'm going to tell you what is expected of everyone who works in Intelligence Division, which is that you will do what I say, when I say, how I say. I'm not looking for someone to come in and second guess me or act like they know how to operate better than I do. If that's any kind of problem to you, you have no place in this division."

Bayley didn't particularly relish being told not to be a free thinker, but she figured upon reflection that wasn't the essence of what Thorne was saying. Her point was that the chain of command here was cast iron and sacrosanct. Commander Thorne was exactly that – the commander. Anyone who forgot that would be kicked out of the division before they knew what was happening. In any event, this opportunity was too good to pass up. Bayley absolutely wanted it, however there was one problem. "I'm so grateful for the offer. I want to accept it, but I can't leave my duties until the sniper has been caught. That would be wrong."

Thorne nodded appreciatively. "Good answer. Very good answer. We'll talk again about arranging your training and getting you started when the shooter is dead or behind bars. Sound good?"

"Sounds amazing," Bayley beamed.

"Good. Now get back to work." Thorne didn't rise from her chair or offer a handshake, she simply nodded towards the door.

"Yes, ma'am," Bayley said. She left the office and hurried out of Intelligence Division, back through the security door into the main body of the police station. Only when she was out there did she take out her phone to send a text to Sasha.

_Babe, I have some huge news for you tonight!_


	5. Chapter 5

"There's the van," Bayley said. She was on duty with officer Tessa Blanchard, continuing the task of tracking down all of the maroon vans in the city that matched the make and model identified from the CCTV footage at the gas station where the second shooting had taken place.

A witness at the location of the third shooting had reported seeing a maroon van earlier in the day, parked down the street. The witness hadn't been positive about the model, but he had responded to a picture of the model in question by saying that it could have been the same as the one he had seen.

Blanchard parked the squad car across the end of the driveway that the latest van they were going to inspect was parked on, just in case the unlikely scenario of a suspect trying to escape in the van somehow came about.

This one was their third van of the shift. It didn't look like a likely contender, Bayley thought as she got out of the squad car. The van had a white rectangular logo for a window cleaning company on it's side. No witnesses had mentioned seeing anything like that.

Bayley waited for Blanchard to walk around the squad car, then they had a quick look around the van. Nothing stood out as suspicious.

"Let's give the door a knock," Blanchard said.

Heading over to the front door, Bayley prepared herself to do the talking. No matter who she partnered with, they tended to leave speaking to the public to her, given her talent for it.

Bayley rang the doorbell and loudly knocked the door. There was only a short wait before a man in his late fifties answered the door. He was dressed in a well-worn t-shirt and a pair of jeans covered in stains – a work outfit. As was often the case, understandably so, he looked surprised to find two cops at his door.

"Help you, officers?" he asked.

"Morning, sir," Bayley said. "I'm officer Martinez, this is officer Blanchard. We're from the SCPD, and we're investigating a case in which a maroon van similar to yours has come up in witness testimony. We'd like to take some details from you and have a look at your van in order to eliminate you from our enquiry. Would that be okay?"

"Uh, sure," the man said.

"Can I start by taking your name?"

"Terry Joseph," the man replied. The company name on the van was Terry's Window Cleaning, Bayley recalled. She took a few more details, then obtained his van key so that she and Blanchard could open it up and check it out.

"Not expecting to find anything here," Blanchard said quietly to Bayley as they went back to the van.

"Nope, but we'll give it a look anyway," Bayley said. From one of the pouches on her belt, she pulled out a pair of blue nitrile gloves and worked her hands into them. Blanchard followed suit.

"You take the front, I'll take the back," Bayley said, pressing the button on the key fob to unlock the van.

Blanchard went around to the driver's door as Bayley opened the rear doors. At first glance, she found herself looking at items and equipment that she would have expected to find in a window cleaner's van.

The voice of a male officer came through on Bayley's radio. "Shots fired at police from a maroon van near a gas station at the corner of Maple and Sycamore! Suspect vehicle heading east at speed! Backup and aerial surveillance needed urgently!"

"They've found the bastard!" Blanchard called out to Bayley.

Bayley was already running back to the house, where Terry was standing in the doorway. "Thank you. We've got to go," she said, tossing the key back to him. He caught it, looking bemused by the whole thing.

Rushing back to the squad car, Bayley jumped into the passenger seat, and Blanchard pulled away, tyres squealing and siren wailing. She had already radioed dispatch to confirm that they were responding to the call for backup.

"That's got to be our guy!" Blanchard yelled over the noise of the siren.

"Sure sounds like it! Now we've got to make sure he doesn't escape!" Bayley yelled back.

A few minutes later, Bayley figured out that as they had worked their way across the city, they had gotten ahead of the pursuit. "Turn right up here! Stop at the next intersection!" she called out to her partner.

Blanchard swung the car right at the next intersection, tyres squealing again. "You want to try and get a stinger on him?" she replied.

"Yes!" Bayley knew that they had a stinger in their trunk. The device was a strip of metal spikes that could be deployed across a road, bursting the tyres of any vehicle that drove over it. If they could get there ahead of the van and get it with the stinger, they could bring the pursuit to an end.

The car sped through two blocks, then screeched to a stop at an intersection. Blanchard parked the car off to one side of the two lanes that were mercifully almost empty of traffic.

Both officers jumped out of the car. Bayley stood on lookout for the suspect van, while Blanchard opened the trunk and took out the stinger.

"Here they come!" Bayley cried as the van came into sight, several squad cars speeding behind it. They had only just gotten there in time. She got on her radio to inform her colleagues of the plan. "Car six delta in position to deploy stinger!" She then called out to her partner. "On my mark!"

It was important to get the timing right. If Blanchard threw the stinger out too soon, the suspect might see it and try to swerve around it.

"Three! Two! One! Now!" Bayley shouted.

Blanchard hurled the stinger into the road. It expanded to its full length, covering the width of about one and a half lanes, seconds before the maroon van drove over it at full speed. Loud bangs signified the bursting of all four tyres. She quickly pulled the stinger back so that the police cars could proceed undamaged.

It wasn't going to be necessary, Bayley saw. The van driver made the mistake of trying to make a right turn at the intersection. With all of his tyres instantly deflated, he lost control, and the van ploughed into one of the poles for the traffic signals. It was a heavy impact, smashing the front of the van hard enough for the airbags to go off, incapacitating the driver.

Bayley was already off and running towards the van, joining the other officers who bailed out of their cars.

"Get out of the van! Keep your hands up!" the male officer in the lead was yelling at the driver.

Suddenly, the back doors of the van flew open. A man with long brown hair jumped out onto the road, brandishing a pistol. Bayley had her gun in hand almost instantly, finding herself as the one confronting the unexpected second suspect.

"Drop the gun!" Bayley yelled, aiming right between his eyes. She saw panic in them now that he knew he was caught. Around Bayley, other officers including Blanchard also had their guns trained on the man. He wavered, not complying with her instruction.

"Drop the gun, now! Get on your knees!" Bayley shouted. She had never killed anyone. This guy was fixing to be her first if he didn't do as she told him, because she was ready to drop him.

Fortunately for him, the suspect let the gun fall from his hand, realising that the game was up, and that his only options were arrest or death. He didn't seem keen on the latter.

"Get on your knees!" Bayley shouted again. "Hands behind your head! Interlock your fingers!"

The suspect complied. With her colleagues covering her, Bayley went in to make the arrest.

* * *

That night, Bayley felt on top of the world when she arrived home. She had picked up a huge pizza on her way back from the station. It gave her and Sasha something to celebrate with, and saved Sasha cooking anything.

"Bay! Oh my god, I saw you on the news!" Sasha called out, walking through from the living area when Bayley came through the door into the apartment.

"You did?" Bayley asked, surprised. She gave Sasha a peck on the lips, then carried the pizza through to the living area, setting it down on the coffee table.

"Yes! They were showing cell phone footage someone got of those two scumbags getting arrested. I couldn't believe it when I saw it was you who was leading one of them away. You're such a badass, Bay."

"Thank you, I do try," Bayley grinned. With no time to waste on getting changed out of her uniform, she sat down on the couch and took a slice of pizza out of the box. She decided to wait a little while before mentioning the Intelligence Division job, until they had finished talking about the arrests.

"How did you catch them?" Sasha asked. "I'll go and fix us a glass of wine." She went through to the kitchen, which was close enough for the conversation to continue.

Bayley told the story of the search for maroon vans, the subsequent pursuit, and the eventual use of a stinger by Tessa Blanchard to bring it crashing to a halt. By the time she was done, Sasha was sitting next to her, helping her to demolish the pizza.

"I can't believe there was two of them," Sasha said.

"I know!" Bayley exclaimed through a mouthful of food. "Once they were interrogated, they both started singing, wanting to cut any kind of deal they could get. It turns out that Zack Ryder, the guy who was driving the van when we stopped it, used to be in the military. He was a trained sniper. His buddy, Curt Hawkins, is just some low life who decided to join him on his mission to kill cops. He was training him to shoot as they went along. Ryder had a grudge against the police for locking his dad up for robbery."

Sasha looked staggered and horrified. "Are you saying this guy was teaching someone to hunt cops with him?"

"I guess you could put it that way. It was Ryder who shot Ramirez. Hawkins took the shot that was aimed at Richards but hit the civilian. Ryder shot officer King. Today was going to be Hawkins turn to try again, but fortunately a patrol car saw their van parked in a suspicious location near a gas station."

"Wow, what pieces of shit. I assume they're both going to get life?"

Bayley took a sip from her wine glass. "They damn well better get life. Between them they murdered three people."

"I'm very glad you guys caught them," Sasha said. After a few moments of eating, she had a question to pose. "So, the big news you mentioned this morning?"

"Oh, that! I nearly forgot," Bayley lied. "Guess who was offered a promotion to Intelligence Division?"

Sasha squealed excitedly. "You got a promotion? Oh god, how awesome! Wait, what is Intelligence Division?"

Bayley smiled at the reaction. "They work murders, robberies and kidnappings. It's mostly a division for detectives, but the boss picked me out personally. She said if she wants a regular police officer on her team, she can have one. I wasn't going to argue with her. So, after I go through a few weeks of training, I'm pretty much moving on to detective work."

Sasha dropped her half eaten pizza slice into the box and pulled Bayley into a hug. "I'm so proud of you. You can't eat pizza without getting it all down your chin and your uniform, but you can get a job on a team with detectives."

"What? Oh, shit," Bayley grumbled as she pulled back, looking at a big blob of tomato sauce on her uniform shirt. "That really sums me up, doesn't it?"

"Detective Martinez, messy eater!" Sasha said theatrically.

"I'm not a detective," Bayley laughed. "I'm a long way from being a detective."

Sasha smiled at her. "Doesn't sound that way to me."

_END_


End file.
